This will be my third consecutive year as a Christmas orphan, my fourth in total. But there’s something different about this one, something totally unfamiliar. It has nothing to do with being out of the country—my first Christmas away from my family was spent in Spain. It’s the season that’s different. As I sit on the terrace in my bikini listening to Christmas music that talks about snow and cold and certain kinds of trees and hot beverages, I feel in many ways estranged. Don’t get me wrong, I love summer. I LOVE summer. Nothing about skipping winter fills my heart with sadness. There is just a part of my brain reacting with alarm, like I’m effing with the senses somehow, celebrating the holiday season on the terrace in a bikini or my favorite white summer dress while drinking hummer’s that look like some kind of paradise drink with their fresh red grapefruit garnish. Where’s the egg nog? Haha, I bet some locals would laugh at you if you told them you wanted egg in your beverage. (At least the red wine is familiar, though! Argentineans drink red wine year-round.)
For the past two December holiday seasons, I celebrated with my MFA community. We had little potluck parties and festive events of all kinds to keep us warm and full of cheer. It was cold and one year, overwhelmingly (and gorgeously) snowy. Just like I’m used to. When I was in Spain, my then-boyfriend travelled over the Atlantic to spend the holidays Eurailling across Western Europe with me, a whirlwind of excitement and fun to distract from the lack of normal holiday activities.
This year, Brandon and I are in good spirits, despite some amount of homesickness or a community of good friends/family to celebrate with. This week we’re going to a nearby store to buy a little tree which we will adorn with lights; I’m sure it will make our room look cozy and festive. And we’ve been busily downloading Christmas movies to sprinkle into our usual routine of evening features (mostly new movies or Dexter). We attended a great Chrismakkah party on Saturday, a heavenly feast and enjoyable times had by all. We’ve already made latkes once and plan to make them again, a wonderful Chanukkah dish (potato pancakes). And for Christmas Eve/Christmas Day, Brandon’s family so generously put money into his bank account so that we’ll have presents to open with them over Skype. The rest of those two days will probably be spent making a gourmet Christmas feast for two (or three, yes Luna that means you) and watching our Christmas movies. I love Christmases with Luna. She’s mi hija, mi amor del mundo. It makes me feel all warm-fuzzy inside. AND I bet I’ll be Skyping with my family when they gather at my parents’ house, my young niece and nephew excitedly opening their gifts.
Also, a special Merry Christmas to me—my parents are paying off my Huge Grad School Bill within the next few days. Most twenty-somethings aren’t that lucky; enormous loans will be hanging over their heads well into adulthood as they struggle through the sinking economy looking for any possible way to keep themselves afloat. Maybe my parents don’t know how grateful I feel for their generosity, but I’m forever indebted to them, especially for a wanderlust writer like myself. I don’t want to one day look back on my life with regret, thinking of all the things I didn’t get to do (like live in Buenos Aires and work on my book!) because of monthly student loan payments. I know that happens to people, and I’m sorry for them.
So, the snow’s not coming down. I’m not watching it fall. But it’s still Christmas. This year, I’ll be working on my tan.
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